


They Wander in the Dark

by DancingForRain



Series: Sink or Swim [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Demons, Gen, Hotch has already adopted Reid even if he won't admit it, Pre-Slash, bau hunt the supernatural, but like really really pre-slash, meeting the team, mild description of gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 17:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingForRain/pseuds/DancingForRain
Summary: Hotch and Gideon have successfully recruited Spencer to their cause of battling the supernatural. Now he has to meet the team.Derek's sceptical. At first.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm back to this obsession again. I'm hoping to write out two more chapters for this one, one where we actually see Gideon working with Spencer on his abilities and another looking at his first mission with the team. This is all in buildup to the Tobias Hankel arc, but that's assuming best case scenario where I actually manage to write something out more than once a month. Fingers crossed!
> 
> Warning for one mild description of gore. I'm totally making up my own lore regarding the supernatural in this universe, hopefully it comes across okay. For those not reading in chronological order, this is set right after the prologue.

“Straight flush.”

Derek glares at the hand Emily has smugly placed on the table, throwing his pair of tens down to join them. “You’re cheating.”

Emily raises one eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips. “How could I possibly be cheating?”

“Ace up the sleeve?” JJ suggests playfully. She’s been observing them play for the past hour, only walking away to make a fresh cup of tea. Both hands are curled around the steaming cup in an attempt to ward off the chill that is ever-present in the rundown house they’re briefly calling home.

Emily laughs and shakes the sleeves of her blouse. “No hidden cards, I promise.”

“Whatever,” Derek rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “I concede. Congratulations, you remain poker champion.”

“Aw, when did you become such a sore loser, Derek?” Emily gathers up the cards and starts shuffling, clearly still hopeful for another round. “You’re usually more graceful about your crushing defeats.”

“Since I’ve been stuck here playing you for a week straight. I’m done. We need to learn a new game.”

“Gideon says we’re leaving tomorrow,” points out JJ.

“Yeah? When did he tell you that?” Derek asks snippily. “Between all the brooding in his room and mystery disappearances?”

“We get it Derek, you’re bored,” says Emily. They all are, even if no one will admit it. It’s unheard of for them to stay in one place so long without a mission. Their lives are no longer that of quiet and routine; Derek knows they all long for it in their more desperate moments but now that they’ve been gifted with a week of downtime it’s made them antsy.

“I just hope this kid is worth it,” he grumbles.

“Gideon says – “

“I know what Gideon says.” He feels bad for cutting Emily off but he’s getting tired of everyone treating the man’s word as law. Being stuck in the same house for so long isn’t just making the team restless, it’s putting them at risk. One neighbour starts asking questions and it could bring all sorts of bad news down on them, but Gideon has sworn up and down that recruiting the so called wonder boy is vital to their cause. Derek’s sceptical and isn’t afraid to say it.

For one thing, he’ll be amazed if Spencer Reid truly can do and see all the things Gideon seems to think he can. The man’s put some kind of X-Files theory together from sketchy medical reports and a rumour mill that’s questionable at the best of times; a barely grown man with the ability to see and interact with all things supernatural, without any kind of ritual or interference on the being’s part. To see ghosts before they go corporeal, locate demons while they still hide on the other plane. Gideon even seems to think Reid can see the faces of demons when using human hosts.

Frankly, it sounds like a fairy tail to Derek. He’s been in this life going on five years now, knows Gideon and Hotch have been in it a lot longer, and none of them have ever come across anyone with these kinds of abilities. Much as he hates the idea, he’s pretty sure Spencer Reid and his mother are just what they appear to be on paper: paranoid schizophrenics, seeing monsters in all the wrong places.

“I know it seems like a long shot,” JJ starts after a moment of awkward silence. “But it’s not just Gideon. Hotch believes him.”

“Hotch thinks it’s better to let Gideon do what he wants rather than go into battle about it,” counters Derek.

Emily holds up her hands in a placating gesture. “Okay. It’s out there, sure. But humour us for a second. Imagine if he really _is_ – I don’t know, whatever they think he is. Imagine the advantage it would give us.”

And this is where Derek’s other big problem with this whole stupid plan lies. “The advantage of an untrained, traumatised 20 year old who hasn’t left his house in two years. Yeah, that’s really gonna put us ahead.”

“You’re being unfair,” says JJ, looking upset.

“I’m really not.” Derek leans forward, crosses his arms on the table. “I’m not just saying this to be a dick, you know. If Spencer really does have these abilities and we go dragging him into this war, we’ll be fucking him up for good. There’s no getting out of this life, we all know that.” He looks pointedly at both of them and feels no satisfaction when they avoid his eyes. “He’s _twenty years old_. His life hasn’t even started and everyone’s totally fine with just taking away the chance that he’ll ever get one. Best case, he becomes just like us, which I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Worst case, we get the kid killed because we’re too busy using him like – like some kind of _weapon_ to remember that he’s a plain old human being like the rest of us.”

Neither woman jumps in to argue. There’s an unhappy twist to Emily’s lips and JJ places her tea on the table with a sigh. “Maybe you’re right,” she admits. “It’s just – I keep thinking about all of the missions that went bad. All the ways he could have helped. All the people we might have saved.”

“JJ…” Emily places a hand on top of her friend’s.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway breaks the moment.

“Moment of truth,” Derek mutters, and stands from the table.

Between the team they have two vehicles; the sedan Derek got when he was seventeen and a beat up SUV. Derek and the two women behind him watch from the doorway as Hotch steps out of the driver’s seat of the SUV, looking grim. Immediately, Derek assumes the whole thing’s been a bust and they’ve wasted a week stewing, but as Gideon gets out on the other side, Hotch goes to the backdoor and opens it. With a deceptively gentle grip he helps a young man out; a man that can only be Spencer Reid.

As far as first impressions go, it doesn’t instil Derek with confidence. Spencer is tall but shockingly skinny and looks as if a slow breeze could knock him over. He’s studiously avoiding looking towards the house, his eyes choosing instead to flit between Hotch and the ground. He tilts his head down, a natural kind of movement that begs not to be paid attention to, and it causes his hair, long enough to curl behind his ears, to curtain his face.

Derek’s eyes narrow. Is that blood?

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Gideon says quietly as he comes to stand by the rest of the team. He’s holding a duffel bag in one hand. “He’s strong. More importantly,” he looks at them then, and Derek is startled by the new fire in his eyes. “He can do it. He can see them.” The man looks back to where Hotch is murmuring something in Spencer’s ear. “And he can get rid of them.”

* * *

Introductions are awkward, to say the least. Hotch does the rounds and Spencer nods and smiles weakly at all of them, but he struggles to make eye contact and offers little waves in favour of handshakes. Gideon announces they’ll be leaving at first light tomorrow and takes their pile of maps and news articles to his room, planning out their next destination. Derek finds this rather brusque, considering he was the guy so insistent on bringing Spencer onto the team in the first place and Hotch seems to agree by the way the lines around his eyes tighten, but he takes it in stride with the practice of years working alongside Jason Gideon. He guides Spencer to the living room and to the raggedy couch. Seeing JJ’s abandoned tea he allows a small smile and suggests she make another for their new member, something she jumps to with the relief of having something to do. Hotch then turns to Emily.

“Get me the first aid kit.”

Emily frowns but goes without question, leaving Derek alone with Hotch and the kid.

“He’s hurt?”

Hotch’s frown is back, but his touch is soft as he tilts Spencer’s head just so. A small patch of blood is matted in his hair. “There was an incident.”

Derek’s eyebrow goes up at the non-answer. Surprisingly, it’s Spencer that elaborates.

“Was trying to get rid of them,” he says ruefully.

Derek connects the dots and is a little horrified. “By smacking your head against a wall?”

“Obviously I wasn’t feeling entirely rational,” Spencer mutters and in other circumstances Derek would be delighted by the hint of sass. The kid focuses back on Hotch. “Sorry. I don’t… lose control like that much anymore.”

“We’ll work on it,” says Hotch. His voice has remained soft from the moment he introduced them. Logically, Derek knows their unofficial co-leader is a deeply caring man, but it feels a little like whiplash to see it so clearly on display. “That’s what we’re here for, remember? To get rid of them.” He probes carefully at the wound, causing Spencer to hiss. “Hopefully with less bodily harm.”

“That would be nice.”

* * *

Derek is volunteered to make the dinner run that night, and despite his uncertainty over the kid, he suggests Spencer come with him. Spencer looks vaguely surprised by the invitation, and Derek explains “could be the last time you’ll be in the neighbourhood for a long time. Doesn’t hurt to get one more look at the place.” It’s something he wishes someone had told him when he’d joined the life.

Hesitantly, Spencer nods. Hotch is eyeing him, which Derek tries not to be offended about. He _has_ been pretty vocal about his view on this whole plan, but it’s clearly a done deal now so he figures he may as well make the most of it. No need to take his doubts out on Spencer.

They take the sedan.

“So. Any suggestions?” Spencer looks at him in askance from the passenger seat. “For dinner. Got a favourite pizza place or something?”

Spencer’s still looking at him like he’s waiting for the punch line, but after a moment he says “Thai Food Shop is good.”

“Great. What’s the name?”

Spencer’s lips twitch up on one side. “Thai Food Shop.”

Now Derek feels like the one not in on the joke. “You pulling my leg, kid?”

“You’ll know when we get there, I suppose.”

Spencer gives directions to a place tucked in between a seven eleven and a clothes store with a sign above the entrance that actually says, to Derek’s disbelief, ‘Thai Food Shop’. Spencer chuckles at the look on his face then looks almost surprised at his own reaction. Derek can’t help but wonder about the last time he must have laughed.

They place an order big enough to have the woman behind the counter looking vaguely concerned. The place is cramped and slightly too warm, with only a handful of two person tables lining the walls, so they wait outside. Spencer’s eyes roam up and down the street with his hands in his pockets. Derek watches him, curious despite himself.

“Do you see any right now?”

Spencer focuses on him, looks him in the eyes this time. They’re a rich, liquid brown, like bourbon whiskey, but there’s a darkness to them that has nothing to do with the colour. “Any what?”

“Any… thing,” Derek says, waves a hand vaguely. “You know.” Spencer just continues to look at him until Derek fidgets, inexplicably embarrassed. “What, you want me to be specific?”

That twitch of a smile again, and Derek realises he’s being messed with. “Yes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Alright, smartass. There any ghosts hanging around?”

Finally, Spencer looks away, back to scanning the darkened street. “No.” Derek feels oddly disappointed by the answer until he continues “there’s a monster, though,” and he freezes. Spencer, unperturbed, elaborates, “demons, you call them, right? One of them.” He nods towards the mouth of an alley across the road, as if pointing out a piece of interesting graffiti.

Derek’s hand drifts slowly to the gun hidden in the small of his back. Demons, while not native to the human world, can find their way to it through the help of misguided people or their own cunning, depending on their power and intelligence. A vital step to any demonic visit is the plane parallel to the humans’ – where they find a tear and breach through the wall. He has no idea where they spend their time when not on this plain or its parallel, and he hopes he never finds out.

“Is it coming through?”

Spencer side eyes him without turning away from the alley, reminding Derek that Spencer hasn’t had the same education he has. He tries for a broader, “what’s it doing?”

“Nothing. Glaring.”

“At?”

“Me.”

Derek takes a step towards him, prepares to throw him out of harm’s way, but Spencer sees the movement and shakes his head. “It’s not going to do anything. It’s just angry. They don’t like that I can see them.” He huffs, continues, “it’s weird, talking about them like – like they’re real.”

“They are real,” Derek says, even as he attempts to wrap his head around the surrealism of their conversation. “They’re very real. And they don’t – they don’t just do _nothing_.”

Spencer shrugs, almost nonchalant except for the stiff line of his shoulders. “That’s all they do to me. Well,” he amends with a tilt of his head, “sometimes they try to scare me. Sort of like payback, I guess.” There’s no humour in his smile. “Worked a lot more when I was younger.”

Again, Derek can’t help but wonder if they’ve all made a huge mistake and Spencer really is just delusional, because demons aren’t picky when it comes to bloodshed. They don’t care about age, or reason, or timing. If they have a victim in their sights, they pounce, regardless of consequence. The more intelligent ones might put some thought into self-preservation, the ones with enough awareness and skill to interact as a human might take some time for torment, but there isn’t a demon out there that will settle for jump scares.

He needs more evidence. “What does it look like?”

Spencer cuts him with a dry look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, but answers dutifully. “Like a dog but…” he wrinkles his nose, “without its skin. Its face is mashed, like it’s been squashed by something. And its back legs are about a foot longer than its front ones, so it’s sort of… hunched down. And… and it has a tail, with – “

“Spines,” Derek finishes faintly. “Like a porcupine, right?”

Spencer stares at him. “Yeah. Can you – “

“No,” Derek shakes his head, is almost sorry for the brief flash of disappointment on the kid’s face. “No, I can’t see it, I just – we’ve faced one of them, before. It’s called an Orgdroth.”

“An Org – really?”

“I didn’t come up with the names, man.” Derek stares at the alleyway, as if it will appear to him if he looks long enough. “That’s wild. I guess it can’t get through.”

“You said that before, ‘get through’. What does that mean?”

Derek opens his mouth to answer but their order number is called through the doorway of 'Thai Food Shop' and he’s shocked back into the here and now. Christ, they’re just meant to be getting _dinner_.

“Tell you what, kid,” he says, wary to look away from where a bloodthirsty beast is apparently watching them, “grab the food and we’ll get everyone around the dinner table. You can play twenty questions with the team.”

Spencer apparently has no problem turning his back on the Orgdroth and makes his way to the entrance agreeably. “Sure.” He looks at Derek again as he brushes past, capturing him with those whiskey coloured eyes. “But stop calling me kid. I haven’t been one in a long time.”

Derek would argue, would tease, but he finds in the wake of that gaze, he can’t. Because looking in those eyes, he knows it’s true. Spencer’s eyes are tired, haunted, old in a way that shouldn’t be possible on someone that young. Spencer’s as old as anyone on their team, all aged by the things they’ve seen and fought. Derek watches him step into the shop with a slight pang to his heart. He thinks maybe Spencer aged before any of them.

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideon helps Spencer control his powers. Emily feeds him soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, attempting to be casual about the fact that I've written for the first time in months: sup
> 
> (I'm very happy with this one!)

“So,” Gideon says five minutes into their walk, “where do you most see your ghosts?”

Spencer glances at him from the corner of his eye before focusing ahead. They’re in some unnamed woods close to the road, where Gideon had demanded the group pull over. Spencer had felt incredibly awkward when it turned out to be just so he and Gideon could trek off alone, but everyone seemed to take it in stride. He thinks maybe Gideon’s just an eccentric person.

“Uh, I never really left the house if I could help it,” he says after a brief hesitation. He still feels foolish talking about his – his _hallucinations_ like they’re real, when he’s spent his entire life trying to convince himself they’re not. “When I was a kid, if it was a good day, mum and I would go to the park or something, but. I’ve never really had to go looking for them.” He shrugs helplessly. “Sort of feels like they’ve always just been drawn to me.”

Gideon nods. He hasn’t once looked anywhere but in front of him, but his expression is pensive. “And the demons?”

“They… aren’t as regular,” Spencer explains. “I could see three in a month, or over the span of a year.” He shivers slightly, and irrationally hopes Gideon doesn’t notice. “But they leave a bigger impact.”

For a moment, Gideon doesn’t respond. Spencer feels wrong footed, like he doesn’t know if he’s doing or saying the right things. He has no idea how this is supposed to go.

When Gideon does speak, it’s a tangent. “You mentioned your mother. You institutionalised her?”

Spencer flinches, halts his steps. He’d gathered they’d looked him up before coming to him, but until now, it hadn’t really bothered him. “That’s – she wasn’t – “

Gideon looks back at him, raises an eyebrow and lifts his head in a gesture to keep walking. “I don’t blame you, Spencer. She couldn’t handle it like you can. You did the right thing.”

Spencer processes that before he follows Gideon, whose pace hasn’t changed. “She… was getting worse,” he finally admits, his chin close to his chest. “She was hurting herself. A lot.”

“Like I said, you did the right thing. This gift you have – “

“It’s not a gift,” denies Spencer without thinking. He feels angry, suddenly. “No one would want this.”

Gideon tilts his head in what may be acquiescence. “Perhaps. But it is a strength. A power. As long as you know how to use it.”

“And how would you know how to use it?”

“I don’t.”

Spencer stops again, waits this time until Gideon turns to face him. “The whole reason I agreed to come with you – “

“Spencer,” he says calmly, unphased by Spencer’s rising voice, “I have spent close to thirty years battling the things you see. I have banished more ghosts, monsters and demons then you could imagine. I’m good at this.” He takes a step closer, eyes boring into Spencer’s. “I’m very good at this. And you don’t get good at this kind of work without coming to understand your enemy. You research them. You watch them. You get as close to them as you can without losing your head.

“You may see all the things that go bump in the night, you might be able to interact with them, but I guarantee you, no one knows them like I do. All I’m asking is that you trust me, you give me a chance, and I promise you. We _will_ learn how to control it. Together.”

Spencer stares back, scans every part of the older man’s face, and sees nothing but confidence. Belief, like he truly already knows he’s going to find the answer. It’s difficult not to believe in that kind of certainty. Not when he so, so badly wants to.

Finally, he huffs out the angry breath he’d been holding, and breaks Gideon gaze. “With nature walks?”

He thinks he sees Gideon’s lips twitch. “To understand what you can do, I first need to understand _you_ , Spencer.”

“Good luck,” mumbles Spencer in return. This man isn’t the first to try, not by far.

* * *

Two months in, however, and Spencer’s starting to think he might be eating his words.

“Okay. Bring someone in.”

They’ve learned over time (and lots of meditation) that Spencer can draw a ghost to him, if he wants to. Of course, he’s never in his life wanted to encourage the damn things before, but it’s proven useful in learning how to send them away again.

He’s getting better at blocking them out, like throwing a sheet over a piece of furniture, muffling their voices and shading their faces. But Gideon wants him to learn how to make them move on. Send them from this world to whatever or wherever it is that comes after death. Spencer’s uneasy about it.

“What if they’re not ready?”

Gideon has a way of looking at him that makes Spencer feel like a child despite the lack of expression on his face. It’s something in his eyes, he thinks.

“A ghost is never ready to move on, Spencer. That’s what causes them to become spirits in the first place. It is our job – _your_ job – to make them do so anyway.”

It’s not the first time they’ve had this discussion. Spencer huffs and focuses back on the centre of the barn where they’re practicing. He opens up his senses like Gideon’s taught him to do, taking in the musty smell of old hay and the slight rustling of a mouse scurrying somewhere in the shadows. He stares at the same spot, stares and stares until his eyes go out of focus and his vision goes hazy. He reaches out with his mind, tries to open himself up to any spirits that may be nearby. There’s always some. Despite his training, they still follow him, are drawn to him in a way he doesn’t understand.

He feels a presence on the edges of his mind. It’s angry – a lot of them are – and it lashes out at his probing. He latches on and drags –

A woman is screeching, crying, screaming. Spencer’s vision snaps back into focus and he sees her, pale and tall. Her dark brown hair is a tangled, knotted mess, her dress, once glamorous, is dirtied and stained with blood, and her jaw sticks out at an angle that is wrong. And her eyes glare, they see him and glare and glare as she screams, as she lurches towards him, reaches out to grab him –

Spencer holds his ground, forces his feet still, throws out an arm even though he knows it’s all in the mind. He pushes, quick and sharp, with as much strength as he has and she flies backwards.

She pauses, for just a moment, a single second of shock, but then she’s only angrier, and charges at him again, but he doesn’t relent, keeps pushing back. She’s fighting him, pushing and clawing and slamming against his barrier. He can feel her edging through, edging closer, and he can’t look away from the odd angle of her jaw, can’t help but wonder what happened, how much it must have hurt –

“Spencer!”

Gideon’s voice brings him back with a lurch and he closes his eyes against the woman’s tragic appearance. He puts everything he has into pushing her, imagines a tear in the space behind her, a large, ragged gash that shows nothing but a deep swallowing blackness on the other side – she’s fighting, but he’s overpowering her, and suddenly there’s a tug from behind her, something pulling her closer to the hole, taking her from him –

The screaming stops. He opens his eyes, gasping for breath, and sees… nothing. She’s gone.

His legs are trembling with exertion. He feels sweat trickling down his brow, but he’s cold. Freezing, and he brings his arms up tight against his body. He looks at Gideon.

The small smile on Gideon’s face, the way his eyes shine, is the most enthusiasm – the most emotion – Spencer’s ever seen on him. He’s cold, and he’s exhausted, and he keeps flashing back to the way the ghost's jaw stuck out, but when Gideon says quietly, “good job,” it fills him with pride.

The door to the barn groans open and Derek and Emily make their way in. Derek beelines right to Spencer, already cursing and shrugging out of his leather jacket.

“How’d it go?” Emily asks as Spencer accepts the jacket without argument. He welcomes the warmth, made stronger from Derek’s body heat, and barely resists the urge to snuggle his nose into the collar.

“Fantastic,” says Gideon, quiet as ever but excitement and pride lacing his voice. “He did excellently. Sent her away in minutes.” He nods at Spencer. “We work on your focus and you’ll get even faster.”

“Sure,” says Spencer in a small voice. He always feels vaguely thrown off balance after these sessions, needs time to recenter himself.

“Tell me again why the hell we can’t sit in on these things,” says Derek, looking Spencer up and down. Spencer tries not to flush. Derek’s only making sure he isn't hurt (the first few attempts at exorcisms hadn’t been so successful) but he still feels… self-conscious under his gaze. Spencer pretty much always feels self-conscious next to Derek. The man’s unfairly good-looking.

Still. The concern is nice.

“Because you’d distract him,” says Gideon pointedly, and Spencer realises he and Derek have been staring at each other. He quickly looks away, only to see Emily smirking at them. “And because he doesn’t need all of you jumping in to help the moment things go south. Spencer has to learn to handle himself.” Effectively ending the discussion, he continues, “where are JJ and Hotch?”

“Food run.” Emily says casually, and Spencer knows it would have partly been just so that JJ wouldn’t be here while he was training. The exercises are often loud, violent, and always leave Spencer looking a little worse for wear, and they have a tendency to disturb her. Spencer often thinks she was born too gentle for this job.

Emily points her thumb back in the direction of the old farmhouse. “We’ve got some soup left for you.”

Despite the mild nausea in his stomach, Spencer nods, and follows the others out of the barn. The whole team are constantly trying to fatten him up. He’s assured them he’s just naturally skinny, but they seem convinced that if they feed him enough he’ll get some meat on his bones. It’s strange, suddenly having all these people trying to look after him, caring about his wellbeing, but not in a bad way. He’s embarrassed, really, how much it affects him.

The soup is good – homemade – and it goes a long way in warming him up. Derek sits with him at the table while Gideon disappears like he often does and Emily goes off to read. She’s a massive bookworm, and takes every opportunity to find a bookstore whenever they’re visiting a town.

“You okay?” Derek asks as Spencer slurps the last of his soup from the bowl.

Spencer nods, but he knows Derek’s looking for a better answer than that, so after a moment’s thought he says “I think so. It… wasn’t so hard, this time.”

Derek studies his face. “That’s not what I asked, man.”

Spencer sighs. “She… something bad happened to her. She was… angry, but… Under that, I think she was just. Sad.”

Derek’s hand twitches towards him, like he wants to rest it against Spencer’s arm, and a part of Spencer wants to let him. It’s irrational, he knows, his avoidance to touch. Hotch has proved that. From the first moment Hotch held him, rested his palm against his head to soften the blows, he’s only ever been warm and solid. Real. But Spencer knows what it’s like to touch someone and feel nothing but cold, cold air, and the idea that any of his new friends could turn out to not be real…

It’s irrational. But he still feels relief when Derek keeps his hand on the table.

“I know Gideon talks like they’re all the enemy, but it’s okay to feel for them,” Derek says. “Demons, yeah, they’re evil sons of bitches, but ghosts didn’t ask to become the way they were. You’re allowed to…” he waves a hand in the air as he searches for the right word. “Care.” He smiles. Derek always smiles at Spencer gently. Kind. “It’s a good trait to have. Caring.”

Spencer’s not sure how to respond, but he’s saved the trouble. The front door opens, allowing Hotch to enter, JJ on his heels. She’s holding a newspaper.

“What, no food?” Derek asks, seeing their otherwise empty hands.

Hotch shakes his head, expression grim. “It’s time to move.” He looks at Spencer, who can’t decipher the look in the older man’s eyes. He wonders why it looks like regret. “We’ve got a case.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone thinks so, the Thai Food Shop is not me being a lazy writer! There's literally a thai place where I live with that name and it's a constant source of amusement to me.


End file.
